Jade-Eyed Beast
by Sardonic Storyteller
Summary: Thunder was just a noise, just a noise. It couldn't hurt him, it was just the delayed sound of lightning. It was just a noise dammit. No matter how much Jughead told himself this his hands remained clapped over his ears in desperate attempt to keep the sound out. He needed to get over himself, Golden Boy wasn't scared of noises. But Archie had a lot of things that Jughead didn't.


_Notes:_

 _Originally posted on the Riverdale Amino_

 _I only edited most of this, so towards the end you're bound to see more mistakes._

* * *

 _"Hey, Jug, Me and Archie are gonna run down to the store to pick up a few things. You up for the trip?" Fred asked expectantly, thick brown jacket hung over his forearm carelessly. Riverdale was getting colder, the constant rain developing a biting chill that would soak any resident to the bone if they weren't properly dressed. Jughead let his eyes flick up from his screen, meeting Fred's questioning gaze for but a moment before dragging his eyes back to the bright computer screen situated on his lap._

 _"I'm actually working in something for the Blue and Gold..?" Jughead responded, trailing off and leaving the ending open in question. Fred frowned to himself taking in the noirette's posture, slumped over his laptop and legs bent slightly at the knees._

 _"You can stay here Jug, that's fine. We'll see you when we get back." Fred assured, opening the front door and sending another analytic glance to Jughead before heading out to the old truck where Archie was waiting. Jughead didn't bother to look up, not wanting to see Fred's retreating figure. Instead he tried to keep his focus on his writing, but in the end, he was just staring at a blank document._

* * *

Jughead sucked in a breath through his nose, letting out a huff of annoyed air as he stared at the computer on his lap. He hadn't technically lied to Fred, he told himself, he really was working on something for the Blue and Gold. He stared down his screen, eyes narrowing at the blinking text icon telling him he'd yet to write even a word. His blank document seemed keen on calling him a liar. He racked his brain for anything, even a basic sentence starter but nothing remotely helpful came to mind. Jughead grit his teeth and ran his fingers across the keyboard, irrational anger burning his chest for one fleeting moment. In turn he was rewarded with lines of black numbers, letters, and symbols alike running across the white digital paper like messy, uneven brush strokes. Any spark of inspiration had drained from his mind, leaving behind only annoyance. He shoved his computer off his lap and onto the empty seat next to him on the plush couch situated in the Andrews' living room.

The entirety of the Andrews' home was nice and plush. Their walls lined with happy photos, their rooms well past lived in. Their furniture covered in throw pillows and soft blankets. Everything was so cozy, and happy, and nice. At times it was suffocating; the film of perfection that covered the entire home, despite the divorce, laying on too thick and trying to snuff Jughead out. Other times the soft, warm home was all Jughead needed. It made him content, let him curl up amongst the blankets on the couch and just be for once in his life.

Now, on the other hand, he was stationed alone in this home. Still it remained pleasant rather than feeling empty and cold. Vegas lay at his feet, merrily sleeping pressed up against the couch, the lights of the house long since turned off leaving only the white light of Jughead's tossed aside computer's screen to illuminate the room; everything cast in a dim, icy glow. The sound of rain hitting the roof, the windows, and the pavement outside filled the silence. Jughead thought it should feel lonely in this house, should feel abandoned and desolate. It didn't. It didn't feel hopeless like Jughead's trailer had before he'd decided to brave the streets of Riverdale rather than live with his father. It didn't feel bleak or sad.

It felt like it held a promise. A promise of return.

Hurt churned in his chest, envy coiling up like a frozen, cold-blooded Python in his stomach. Ice flooded his veins, the chill being washed away by pulses of fire synchronized with the furious beats of his heart. Anger burned in the forefront of his mind as he ground his teeth together, closed his eyes, and tangled his hands in his hair and accidentally knocked his hat off his head. The fabric fell from his skull without a sound, but the sudden, jerky movement made Vegas lift his head from his paws curiously. Guilt threw itself into the maelstrom of emotions that suddenly assaulted Jughead's mind, he shouldn't feel so upset over the happiness of his best friend and his family. This was dumb. He was being stupid.

Jughead sucked in a shaky breath through gritted teeth, opened his eyes, and slowly untangled his hands from his hair. Vegas let out a soft whine, laying his large head down on Jughead's boot clad foot and licking his pant leg a few times. Jughead let out a soft breath, trying to ease the angry fire still burning in his chest before leaning down and scratching at Vegas' ears. "I'm sorry if I scared you buddy," He apologized softly, rubbing the base of Vegas' ear with his thumb. "Just thinking about some things." He assured. Vegas simply nuzzled his hand, wet nose tickling Jughead's exposed palm before his warm tongue washed away the sensation. Envy boiled back up with a vengeance as Jughead subconsciously scratched at the dog's ruff. Even the Andrews' dog was perfect, much better than any dog Jughead had ever met in the trailer park or even in Archie's neighborhood. The perfect boy next door. The perfect family.

Jughead sighed, ducking his head and meeting Vegas' dark eyes. "What's wrong with me?" He asked, waiting expectantly as if Vegas would open his snout and start speaking the wise words Jughead wanted to hear. Rather then respond Vegas simply tilted his head to the side and let out another soft whine. The almost white Labrador pushed himself up and stretched, paws digging into the rug under the coffee table. He let out a long yawn before trotting over to the front door with a happily wagging tail behind him. Jughead huffed, glaring at the retreating figure of the dog with a disappointed look, "Leave it to me to ask a dog for answers." He muttered to himself, falling back against the couch with a grunt. He let his eyes trace imaginary figures on the ceiling, his mind thinking over how much he admired the lives of the Andrews'. Even with everything they've been through and everything that Riverdale's thrown at them they still remain happy and optimistic. Jughead didn't know how they did it but he wished he did. It wasn't nice being alone, or sad, or having a dysfunctional family but he was used to it, so he acted like it was okay. Like he was fine living the waking nightmare that was his life and he was, really, but that didn't stop him from wishing he could be happier sometimes. Wishing that his life could be a little easier.

The sound of nails scratching against wood travelled through the air, bringing Jughead from his short lived thoughts back to reality. That reality being that Vegas was in dire need of his canine equivalent of a restroom. Jughead blew a soft raspberry, debating if he could claim ignorance to Vegas' need to go outside because he had his headphones on. A long whine reverberated through the house vacant of any noise beside the rain outside and an upset dog, giving Jughead his answer. Jughead sighed and peeled himself away from the couch with a groan. He'd stationed himself on the couch all day, hoping to get something done, and his legs ached as he stretched them. Another whine sounded through the house as Jughead snatched his hat up from where it'd fallen beside him on the couch. "I'm coming, I'm coming, jeez," He muttered sourly, tugging the hat over his head and adjusting it to his liking before making his way towards the backdoor. He clicked his tongue and whistled as he shuffled down the small corridor leading to the door in the kitchen, "Come on Vegas, backyard." He called, relieved to hear the obedient click of Vegas' claws on the hardwood floor as he bolted for the backdoor. The dog zoomed past Jughead, nearly knocking the lanky teen off his feet only to catch himself on the kitchen island. Jughead didn't bother attempting to scold the dog, knowing Vegas hadn't done anything but be excited to relieve himself. That and Vegas wouldn't take him seriously anyway.

"Alright buddy," Jughead huffed, pushing himself away from the island and walking over to the door with urgency as Vegas' whines grew more desperate. Jughead pulled the door open, immediately feeling the cold of Riverdale's wind and the icy wet of the freezing rain on his exposed skin. "Outside," He said but Vegas had already ran outside and disappeared into the storm. Jughead leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, and allowed the rain to soak his entire left side and dampen his right. The lock of hair that stuck out of his beanie was dripping wet within seconds. He watched the white blur of the Andrews' dog run around the enclosed space of the backyard excitedly. Jumping about and getting his paws completely slathered in mud up to the elbow joints. That would be a fun one to explain. Vegas toppled over, slipping on the slick cover of mud, and rolled merrily in the dirt. Once Vegas had successfully turned most of his light coat brown he decided to actually take care of his business. The corners of Jughead's mouth twitched upwards in amusement, watching the dog pant as he lifted his leg and relieved himself. Their messy, excited dog might be better company than Archie. Maybe.

Vegas lowered his leg and proceeded to prance around in the growing weeds in the Andrews' backyard. Jughead didn't have a problem standing in the rain and waiting for the dog to tired himself out, rain was good brooding weather anyway and he had a grand amount of conflicting emotions to sort out. Jughead took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as his eyes tracked the excited dog around the yard. Vegas didn't seem at all tired, and Jughead knew the dog had a lot of stamina from daily exercise with either Archie or Fred. Vaguely he wondered how long he'd be standing in the doorway, thinking his dark thoughts while letting Vegas have the best day of his canine life. Jughead's thoughts soured as he told himself it seemed a fitting comparison between the Andrews' and the Jones'. The Jones' being the dark, brooding family from the Southside and the Andrews' being the light, happy family of the Northside. Opposites; two sides of the same coin.

Vegas barked, once again drawing Jughead out of his dark thoughts and bringing him back to the present. Jughead looked up just in time for a flash of lightning to blind him, white overtaking his vision for just a moment. His hand shot up to cover his eyes from the unexpected attack of light and he blinked a few times. The lightning was long gone, but that didn't matter, Jughead still felt the after effects of the sudden flash of light. He rubbed the lasting imprint of the bolt out of his vision before opening his eyes and glaring at the sky. The gloomy skies, in turn, retaliated with booming, all-encompassing thunder.

* * *

The windshield wipers on the old truck were working overtime to keep the glass clear enough for Fred to see out of. Archie listened as the sky above roared, sounding like an angry god yelling at the mortals down below. He gripped his phone tighter, concern swirling uncomfortably in his stomach and crawling up his throat as he unlocked his phone quickly. He swiped his thumb across the screen that lit his features with ease the lock screen photo of Jughead and him faded away to a home screen of Betty, Jughead, and himself. The reminder of Jughead wasn't much help to Archie's nerves and neither was the enormous bout of thunder that exploded in the dark clouds above. Even Archie startled, taking in a deep breath and holding it for a few seconds before slowly exhaling. He checked his messages to Jughead again but still there was no response. Just Archie's string of texts asking if Jughead was okay, getting more frantic each minute there was no response. "Do you think he's okay?" Archie asked worriedly, cognac eyes desperately looking to his father for some sort of reassurance.

At first when the thunder started Archie thought nothing of it, trying to shake out his soaked hair after climbing into the truck and smiling apologetically as his father halfheartedly scolded him. It was when they were halfway home already that it occurred to Archie that Jughead was still home alone. Guilt had slammed into his chest when he realized he'd forgotten Jughead's fear of thunderstorms but it had been drowned out almost immediately by gut-clenching concern. Archie had urged his father to go faster but Fred would rather be safe and get them home safely than reckless and end up with them flipped over in a ditch somewhere.

"I'm sure he's fine Archie, we're almost home okay?" Fred eased, sending a soft glance to his son before directing his eyes back to the road. Archie nodded slowly to himself though he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Vaguely he wondered who was panicking more, him or Jughead, before he shook the thought from his head. Jughead obviously. That was a selfish question. Archie checked his phone again uselessly, fully aware he wouldn't be getting a response. Maybe Jughead's phone was dead, or he left it upstairs. No matter how hard he tried to calm his racing heart he had no success. He knew neither his concern nor his urgency would ebb until he had proof that Jughead was alright. So rather then continue to try and help himself Archie counted the blocks left until he was home.

Ten. "Alright." Archie breathed out, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the headrest briefly before looking to the street signs. He watched the houses so similar to his own pass by through the rivulets of rain, squinting at the green and white signs of the streets as the approached.

Nine. Jughead would be fine, certainly, and even if he wasn't now Archie knew he would be. Though the thought of Jughead ever being anything but okay made Archie's heart crawl it's way into his throat. He knew Jughead would never describe himself as okay, or anything remotely positive, but he also knew that sometimes Jughead liked where he was in life. He liked to think that mindset was there more often than not.

Eight. He wondered if video games would get Jughead's mind off the storm. He was certain the opportunity to spit sarcastic words at Archie for killing his character again would be a good distraction.

Seven. Couldn't this car go any faster? Archie's rib cage felt like it was constricting; squeezing his lungs.

Six. Maybe he should call Jughead, see if he would answer. He heaved a stressed sigh, running his free hand through his hair and ruffling the bright red locks. No, that probably wouldn't get an answer either.

Five. They were so close. Just a little bit further. Then Jughead could make fun of him for being so worried and brush off his guilt with a careless wave of his hand.

Four. Was he being stupid? Was he worrying so much for nothing? It'd been so long since Archie had even been around Jughead during a storm, he wondered if his friend was even still afraid.

Three. Better safe than sorry. Better worry than not care.

Two. He could see his house through the blurry lines of rainwater on his window. All the lights were still off and Archie thought he could see the dim glow of Jughead's computer still on in the living room. A small comfort.

One. There was definitely a white glow in the living room. The flash of relief that flooded over Archie was gone in a moment though. Just because his laptop was open didn't mean Jughead was okay.

Zero. Archie was out of the car before his dad had even put it in park. Even though he was dying to check on Jughead he still snatched a few bags out of the back, careful not to grab the bag with eggs, before rushing up the driveway. He jumped up the steps leading to his porch with a single leap. He awkwardly dug his house key out of the pocket of his Letterman Jacket, bags swinging on his forearms and elbow directed outward at a strange angle. He jammed the key into the lock and swung the door open, fumbling through the dark before flipping the light on with a soft thwick. Archie quickly shuffled down the narrow corridor to the kitchen and haphazardly tossed the bags onto the kitchen island, turning and heading for the living room with a purpose. "Jug?" he called out, rounding the corner and stopping when he saw an empty couch. Jughead's laptop was sitting half open next to the seat where Jughead had been stationed when they'd left earlier, but Jughead himself was no where to be seen. "Jughead?" He yelled a little louder, wondering if Jughead was just upstairs in the bathroom.

Fred walked through the door with the rest of the bags hanging from his arms and Archie's house key in his hand. He kicked the door shut and made for the kitchen. Archie huffed and turned to scan the living room again as if Jughead was hiding somewhere waiting for the perfect time to jump out. Then Vegas was jumping up on him from behind, nearly knocking him over. The dog was completely covered in watered down mud, his thick white coat a tawny caramel color. Archie turned to Vegas in confusion, pushing the dog back to the floor and attempting to wipe off the residual muck from his yellow jacket sleeves. Vegas jumped for him again, though, before heavily dropping to the floor and running in excited circles around Archie's feet. Archie watched on, trying to figure out two things. Why Vegas was so energetic and why Vegas was so dirty. "Dad?" He asked, heading for the hall and struggling not to trip over the dog dancing around his feet.

"Archie, come here!" His father's voice sounded through the house with barely masked urgency. Archie picked up the pace and bolted for the kitchen.

* * *

Thunder rumbled above in booming, shuddering claps. Jughead ground his teeth together, barely registering how wet and cold he was. His hands were clenched around the rim of his beanie and he desperately tugged the soaked fabric over his head. His eyes were squeezed shut and his palms pressed against the thick knitted yarn already covering his ears. Dumb. This was a stupid, idiotic, irrational fear. Thunderstorms only lasted from thirty minutes to an hour, not to mention thunder was just a loud noise. He was fine. Another roll of thunder roared in the sky above. Jughead startled with a gasp, tugging his legs closer to his chest and resting his forehead on his knees. Stupid, stupid, he was fine. The Golden Boy Archie wasn't afraid of thunder. It wasn't easy to miss anything else Archie had over him either. Jughead curled in tighter on himself and let out a long, trembling breath. He couldn't hear Vegas anymore and he couldn't remember if he'd shut the back door or not. Maybe the dog had found a hole under the fence and escaped leaving Jughead with a new fun problem to explain to the Andrews' when they got back. Terrific, wonderful; This was clearly turning out to be one of the greatest nights of Jughead's life.

Suddenly there were hands gently resting on his shoulders. He jerked away, flailing his arms to try unceremoniously to find purchase and keep himself from falling over. His eyes snapped open and he found a slippery grip of the door frame. The familiar face of Fred Andrews filled his sight, the man kneeling beside him on the soaked floor of the kitchen right inside the door. Obviously he hadn't shut the door. Jughead's chest heaved with panicked and frightened gasps, the scare of Fred's sudden appearance and the soul-crushing fear of the thunderstorm dancing in the gray skies leaving him petrifying dismay. He wondered if he should apologize for the water on the floor, but it didn't feel like the appropriate time. "Hey, it's alright." Fred comforted softly leaving Jughead to feel like a child, but also forcing him to wonder if his father would be comforting him at all. Fred reached out again and Jughead let the man ease him up into a crouch. Another crash of thunder echoed out and Jughead reached up and slammed his hands against his ears again. Fred was quick to half drag half help Jughead into the house before shutting and locking the backdoor. Jughead sniffled, nose suddenly running, and curled up against the kitchen island's cabinets. Fred yelled something, but Jughead's hands were enough to muffle the noise beyond recognition and he wasn't paying much attention anyway. He could feel the thunder in the house. Every time the thunder roared outside he could feel the floor and the counter at his back vibrating subtly.

The hands were back but this time when Jughead opened his eyes- when had he even closed them?- he was met with Archie's face rather then Fred's. Archie's hands hovered, uncertain, over Jughead's shoulders for a moment, gently attempting to rub warmth back into Jughead's body past the soaked clothing. Another roll of thunder and Jughead grit his teeth against the instinct his body had to flinch away from the noise. Archie hands quickly moved from Jughead's shoulders to his wrists and he slowly eased Jughead's hands away from his ears.

"Jug, look at me," Archie said, everything about this situation was soft and gentle and it was driving Jughead mad. Still, he dragged his stormy gaze up to meet Archie's caring honey eyes. There was so much worry and concern in Archie's eyes it sent pangs of sour guilt rolling through Jughead's body. "Everything's okay, promise." Thoughts battling in Jughead's head and heart stilled, his eyes grew from analytic to angry in moments. Here he was, huddled against a counter in the middle of a storm because he was stupidly afraid thinking of how much he envied the Andrews' family when in comes that very same family ready to comfort him like he was one of there own. Something about the words 'okay' and 'promise' finally chucked Jughead over the edge.

Jughead pushed himself to his knees and slammed his fist into Archie's chest, "Okay?" He yelled, curling his other hand around the lapel of Archie's Letterman jacket "What about this situation makes you think anything's okay?" Jughead released his grip on Archie's jacket and forcefully pushed him away. Archie was too shocked to resist, simply falling back. Fred was too shocked to stop him. Wonderful. Jughead fell back against the cabinets with a loud, painful thud. He took off his hat and tossed it aside and tangled his hands in the wet strands of hair. "None of this is okay, it's not okay that I hated my home so much I decided to sleep in a closet," Fred's face turned serious and sour at that, and Jughead had forgetting the man didn't know the full extent of his situation. Whoops. "What about that says okay? Not to mention," Jughead let out a bark of dry laughter, "I've spent the entire day, all of it, sitting on that damn couch in this damn house wishing I've had everything you do." Jughead admitted, yanking his hands out of his hair and jerkily gesturing towards the still downed Archie.

Jughead met Archie's eyes and he was sure they both looked distressed on so many different levels it was almost comical, "You can't promise me anything will be okay, Archie, you don't know what's going on outside of this damn angelic house with the perfect family portraits, the perfect furniture, the perfect dog, with the perfect golden family." Jughead slammed his head back against the cabinets again, cowering when another loud roar of thunder ended his statements with a bang. His chest was heaving and he sniffled again, but this time it wasn't thanks to a runny nose. He hunched over, pulled his legs to his chest, and buried his face in his knees. The warmth of the drips running down his frozen, flushed cheeks was obvious the work of salty tears. His face hidden away from the faces of the family he so admired, the family he'd just spilled his thoughts to in a spur-of-the-moment spout of anger. Jughead's shoulders began to shake and he wrapped his arms around his legs probably looking every part the embarrassed and frightened child he was.

Once more the hands returned, this time was no hesitation as arms wrapped around him to the best of their ability and tugged him into a hug. Jughead was quick to uncurl himself and bury his face into Archie's shoulder to properly hide the tears still beading in his eyelashes and rolling down his face. He latched onto Archie's jacket and tucked himself comfortable against his best friends chest. Archie didn't seem to keen on letting go either, his arms tightly holding Jughead against him while he buried his face into Jughead's hair. "I'm sorry," Jughead said softly, hoping desperately that he didn't sound as choked up to the Andrews' as he did to himself. He wasn't sure was he was apologizing for, though lashing out at Archie and spilling a glimpse of his disgusting jealous thoughts would probably be a great start.

"Don't apologize," Surprisingly it was Fred's voice that chimed in to console Jughead. Jughead looked up slightly over Archie's shoulder, praying that his hair still covered the tears on his face and in his eyes. Fred's face softened significantly when they made eye contact, so Jughead assumed his tears were visible. Fred didn't comment though, and Jughead would be forever grateful for that. "It is okay Jughead, and if it isn't it will be, and until then and even after you're an honorary member of this quote-unquote perfect family." The man leaned forward and messily ruffled Jughead's hair like he had when Archie and himself were young, and things were so much easier. "You always have been, Jug." That shattered him. He choked up again, the tears still building in his eyes doubling and spilling down his cheeks. He ducked his head again and let out a choked sob, the jealousy still churned in his stomach with a handful of other, painful emotions but some of the weight was taken off his shoulders. He clutched at Archie tighter, this time instead of looking for comfort from his friend it was a desperate plea for Archie to never leave him. Archie only held tighter.

"Storm seemed to have stopped," They all knew Archie wasn't just talking about the rain and thunder outside. "Guess it's been thirty minutes." He said. Jughead buried his face deeper into Archie's shoulder in attempt to wipe the tears off his face but they were still coming.

"Guess so," Jughead muttered, he heard Fred get up and leave the kitchen but not before resting a kind had on Jughead shoulder for reassurance. Jughead sniffled and let out a sigh, he wasn't sure if it was out of contentment or the chilling sadness that still filled his mind and body. He settled for both.

"So," Archie drawled, and Jughead peeled himself away from his friend to grab his hat. He pulled the drenched fabric back over his head and met Archie's eyes again. Archie smiled, all happiness, concern, and assurance that it would, in the end, be okay. "Wanna go play video games?" He asked, and he didn't wink or anything but it felt like he should have. Instead Archie's eye-melting smile only got wider, and he looked more like a begging puppy.

And Jughead laughed, it may have been broken and teary, but he laughed and nodded because, good lord, he needed something to ignore the thoughts constantly raging in his head. This, Archie and his perfect family that Jughead had the pleasure of being apart of, would be perfect.


End file.
